


his mouth tastes like home and battlefield

by Skellington101



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Exhaustion, Force Bond (Star Wars), Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Battle, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23375566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skellington101/pseuds/Skellington101
Summary: It's the quiet moments in the aftermath of tragedy and bloodshed, where they pick themselves back up and continue marching.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 128





	his mouth tastes like home and battlefield

**Author's Note:**

> This is a small little thing that popped into my head and very quickly got out of my control. I hope you enjoy!

Battles are fought everywhere.

They linger in a destroyed battlefield, far too silent without the dins of war. But it is not quiet, not to him. Screams ripple silently across the plains, phantom shots still echo down the hills, and mechanical fires crackle and burn.

Blood runs thick in the trenches carved through the dirt by explosions and crashing gunships. A limb, burned and plated in melted plastoid armour, sits at the lip of a particularly deep ditch. The scent of burning flesh lingers in the air.

Fear hangs heavy and despair blooms in the destruction. The _vode_ do not say, but he can always hear it. The dead are not silent, but they do listen. To the brothers that are alive, they scream.

Obi-Wan feels the thrum of agony, both in his body and in the Force, and does not answer. Instead, he moves. 

Small things, his mind whispers, make the bigger difference in the end. He cannot end the war singlehandedly, but he can help in the aftermath of each battle, every single one that ends like this. When the _vode_ fall in ruin, he can come help the ones that can get back up, and soothe the ones that cannot. 

He wonders, to himself, why he can make it back when they can't. He is but one man and they are hundreds. They are far braver than him to march on a battlefield and know, sometimes, that they will not come back. He throws himself around far more recklessly than they ever learned how to. And, yet...

The remaining medics tend to the wounded, the dead are gathered by the able-bodied. Obi-Wan digs into the wreckage, where the Force can lift with the strength that soldiers cannot. 

They find more in the debris. They always do.

Even exhausted, a nasty headache pulsing at his temples, he reaches out with the Force. He brushes along every mind he can touch, a hint of comfort and care among each. It helps, even if it is a little. He has found that it staves off the darker temptations in his troops, when a rifle is closer than a brother is.

The _vode_ carry their dead with respect and near overwhelming grief. He does not need to reach to feel that. 

It is in the way they tuck their arms so closely around the one they carry, how they lay them down with gentle touches, and how they press their foreheads together one last time before ducking away. 

For every vod they find, he remembers a name. _Envy, Jace, Lake, Jasper, Pli, Xee, Tenner, Ayo, Boon, Glimmer, Klick, Wrasp, Eights, Hen..._

The list never ends.

The bitterness stews in his heart, frothing with the radiating grief and fatigue. He should let it go, release it into the Force. It settles in his chest, and he probably lets it sit far longer than he should. 

Quiet relief crests over him, like a lapping wave on a shore, and he welcomes it desperately. Cody is hovering, most likely not intentionally, but in their connection, he senses the other man’s agitation and touches back, waiting as it lessened and dulled. They would meet up later, and he could do it properly.

The lick of anger that was once so tamed within him flares once, twice, more than a few times as he steps into the medical tents set up. Helix wants to pull him away, check him first, but he knows by now. Obi-Wan sits down next to the _vode_ in critical condition and continues another battle.

And that's what he does, for hours and hours. Resting his hand on their heads, touching their shoulders, holding their hands. He calms who he can and quiets the ones who he can't, soothes with his presence and comforts them in their last dying breaths. He whispers words of peace and reassurance in their ears, even when they slip into the Force.

The list grows longer.

Numerous burns, several are coughing because of the smoke and ash in the air when the ships and droids melt from their mechanical failures. Piercing blaster shots leave gaping cauterized holes and armor fused to skin, to be cut away with scalpels and cleaned, lathered with bacta until they can be immersed. More than one has lost a limb or limbs, in the case of Jade, who screams relentlessly, his overwhelmed in shock and his horror like a vibroblade tearing through the Force. The wrenching emotions batter Obi-Wan’s shields, but he refuses to move away. 

He sits next to him and cradles his head. His breaths get calmer, slower, weaker. They fade entirely and he passes into the Force. He’s holding onto a cooling body and he can’t quite get his shaking fingers to unlatch from where he curled them around Jade’s remaining arm.

They move him to the pyre, and Obi-Wan moves to the next _vod_.

Eventually, the critically injured are stable, and he is the last one inside to be checked. Before Helix can snatch him back, he sneaks out of the tents, onto his next battle. 

Night has fallen over the planet, a creeping chill overtaking the surface and giving rise to a thick fog that swirls around their knees. Perimeter lights cast an eerie glow over the tents built away from the still-smoldering battleground. There are far fewer than there should be.

A couple _vode_ linger around the fire lit in the middle of the tents, Boil, Rista, and Ire, all whispering softly to themselves and huddled close. They all get the same dreams he can feel in the dead of night, ones that he tries to ward away as often as he can, but never quite fade.

His Commander is still working.

Cody's voice is steady and strong, keeping a solid structure for his _vode_ to stand on while Obi-Wan helps them up. He's no longer giving orders, but he's talking to another Admiral on holocom about their next movements on this planet, where they will make for after this or if they must retreat back to space for now. 

Their battle was a success, but by no means was it a victory. He only wishes the Republic saw that the same way.

"-iven our growing casualty count, I doubt we'll be able to storm the city like ordered. General?" Cody looks over at him, nodding once.

"I agree with you, Commander. Though Helix and Shank have managed to stabilize those in critical condition, we don't have nearly enough numbers for any sort of large operation, and the injured will have to be taken off-planet." The Admiral looks frustrated and he's sure he would sense it if he were in person.

"Understood, General Kenobi. We will gather several gunships to send to your location for pick-up, and call reinforcements from General Tiin who is stationed nearby." 

For once, their call ends shortly, though not for Cody, whose shoulders slump immediately and his face takes on several new lines of stress. The scuff marks across his armour mark just how hard he fought and there are specks of dried blood on his face and chest.

Mostly everyone is asleep, save for the few at the campfire. So, Obi-Wan has no issue in reaching over and cupping Cody’s cheek, his gloved fingers tentatively brushing away the ash there. Consolation trembles over his fingers, worry and concern mixing in equal measure under Cody’s skin and beating in his chest. Warm brown eyes scan over him, no doubt seeing the hints of injuries he’d carefully tucked away.

Cody slips a hand over his, grasping it gently and pulling his palm to his lips. He brushes a small kiss against the fabric and Obi-Wan can feel the warmth of it even if he can’t feel it.

He presses forward at the same time Cody does, leaning his own forehead against his. _They’re alive, they made it, it wasn’t the last time…_

They both reach in their bond, one tempered by love and time on the battlefield, and breathe in each other’s comfort, a symphony of all the things they can’t say out loud. A wisp of pain, spreading from Cody’s chestplate, reaches him and he can’t help the disquiet that swoops in his heart. Memories are offered to him, of a shot sent off-target just barely skimming his sternum. Reassurance fluttered into the connection, strong and consistent when he can barely keep what he has from breaking.

“You kept it open.”

“Of course I did.” _I wanted to feel you there, even if it would have destroyed me_ , is left unsaid, but ever present. This most recent battle...They made a gamble, took a risk. If his troopers were less than what they were, if they weren’t the brave-hearted, determined soldiers that he led into every firefight, it most likely wouldn’t have succeeded. They were sent to die.

Usually, the bond was closed in battle. Neither of them wanted to risk the backlash, in case—

In case he or Cody ever fell, then at least they would not take down the other. 

With the way the frayed ends of his bond with Qui-Gon still sat untethered and ragged, Cody had been the first to suggest it. And Obi-Wan knew he was right. He wouldn’t be able to handle it again, and Cody wasn’t sure if he could even deal with it happening at all.

They walked a fragile line, a precarious balance that only they knew. Cody was in charge of battalions he had to send off to die and Obi-Wan had to choose to send them there, at the behest of the Republic. 

He is determined to keep going, to try and keep fighting for them all, even if it tears him apart. He’s never done anything else. Never one to be selfish, never one to break all the rules. But just this once—

Love was something different, wild, pulsing in his veins and singing mercy in his soul. If he breathed, it came out in small whispers, when he was tucked close to Cody in the quiet of their own quarters. 

Just this once, he chose not to let go.

Cody tugs him to the tent that is set up further away from the rest and at the back of the camp, and they retreat into it silently. 

The Force bolstering his movements fades over time, and his body very well knows this, aches and twinges of each injury throbbing in time with the beat of his heart. He nearly crumples, when he lets go of the tension holding him up, and the only things keeping him standing is the steady grip of Cody’s arm around his waist and his weakening legs. 

Practically routine, Cody sheds his gauntlets and gloves and gets to unbuckling the leather belt and unwinding the outer pieces of his robes until he’s left wearing only his undertunic and pants. The bruises littering his skin become much more apparent, by the way of Cody’s deepening scowl and him snatching up the medkit no doubt left by a passing trooper. They made a reputation of themselves, it seems, and the rest of the battalion knows it.

At the same time, his fingers reach for the straps and buckles hidden underneath plastoid plates and undoes them with the ease of practice. Pausing when he gets to the chestplate, he can’t help when his hands curl around the damaged chestplate, and he leans into Cody again. 

Thinking of the last time they saw each other, in the looming threat of Separatists droids, and Obi-Wan can't stop the anxiety from tightening around his throat, trapping the rotted air in his lungs. All that escapes his lips is a wavering swear, against everything that has torn them down this far.

Cody eyes him, turmoil stormy and silent in his eyes, but his intent is all clear through the bond as he pulls Obi-Wan’s chin up, cups a hand carefully around his head and seals their lips together in a heated and messy kiss. 

His mouth tastes of ashes and blood, his bottom lip tinged with dirt. The air inside still reeks of ozone and death. Obi-Wan's hands run along a deep crack in his chestplate, tracing the singed edges. His mind chases the possibilities. 

Something more seeps into the kiss, something rough and fierce that didn’t die down from the fearsome battle they took part in. Cody chases his bottom lip, nipping it lightly. He lets out a muffled whimper, allowing him to deepen it further with his tongue roaming the inside of Obi-Wan’s mouth. 

He’s backed up slowly, until something hits the back of his knees and is pushed down onto one of the two cots nestled in the back. Cody leans over him, a hand resting on the cot while the other holds his arm. His own hands sit around Cody’s waist, feeling the muscles and warmth of his body as the other man leans down again to press right up against him. 

Winces, when his hand flutters on a bruise near Cody’s upper thigh and he apologizes softly through the bond. They really shouldn’t have been doing this while injured, but—

Wordlessly, Cody pushes downwards to give one last lip-bruising kiss, his mouth swallowing up all the heat on his tongue and leaving behind a sated haze. His darkened eyes track over Obi-Wan’s lips, satisfaction and a sense of _we’ll continue this later_ through their bond makes him snort unseemingly. 

Cody straightens up to snatch the medkit again and he looks more settled. Better than the anxious and tense ball of stress that he was before, and Obi-Wan can feel it through their connection, how it smoothed over the jagged edges of his own shields.

Each death, no matter how much he knew the _vod_ , grated on him like broken glass, rending through any sort of emotional distance he tried to put between them. The _vode_ were all like that, he learned very quickly. They grew close and crawled underneath his wariness, planting themselves as if they’d always been there.

They coped differently, he knows, but whatever drew them together helps, in the way they connect and tangle together into each other. 

Bacta cream is rubbed into bruises and patches are positioned over open cuts. He can’t do anything else about the large bruise that made up the whole of Cody’s upper torso, but he can slip through his mind and ease the pain enough for Cody to settle in front of him so they could rest easily on one cot.

Obi-Wan’s arm wraps around his waist and their legs tangle together. He tucks his face into Cody’s neck and they relax into each other, only the noise other _vode_ shuffling around outside in the air.

They’re safe in their position. Secure. The _vode_ positioned their tent in the middle of the camp for a reason, though it didn’t slip past his notice. Fondness swells in his chest, just his affection for each of them intermingling with it.

 _Something_ hums in the Force, a feeling of possibility, mixed into the bleak despair and mourning around him. They might make it through to the end of the War. And that’s something Obi-Wan had always felt. But—

The Force works in many ways. Trusting it is easy. Living with the outcome was not. A chance of capture, a chance of being slaughtered in a bombardment, any of it could happen. He was aware of that whenever they marched, after all.

One thought, one feeling he would be sure of, deep in his heart and resonating in his being, was his love for them. He fights. He keeps fighting, for them. That, he thinks to himself, is what he trusts. 

As he slips off into an exhausted slumber, a hand rests in the small of his back, a steady thrum of _you’re-safe, you’re-okay_ in the back of his mind, and they drop off together, at the end of one of the worst battles they’ve ever been through.

_Aay'han._

**Author's Note:**

> aay'han - bittersweet perfect moment of mourning and joy - *remembering and celebrating*


End file.
